


Innocent Man

by Myllow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Thinks Too Much, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eyebrows, Fluff, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Romance, Songfic, Stiles makes Derek happy, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 14:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myllow/pseuds/Myllow
Summary: Stiles needs help getting Derek to believe they should just BE together already.





	Innocent Man

Derek was on the porch, waiting, when Stiles pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the house. Derek had had enough time from when he first heard the grinding of the gears in Stiles’ jeep and the flying gravel thrown by the old tires, to run through several emotions.

His first, naturally, was anger. Why on earth was Stiles coming here, especially after the fiasco of the night before? Anger was followed by dread, which quickly turned into annoyance. He thought Stiles had understood. Derek thought he had been clear last night. Crystal clear. Stiles had nodded and mumbled a quiet “Okay” before slinking out the door, tail between his legs. 

Which, at the time, made Derek feel kind of like an asshole, but also relieved that he didn’t have to come up with anymore words to try to explain himself. Talking was never his strong-suit. It was exhausting and ultimately futile, since Derek never said the right thing anyway, was never able to express exactly what he meant. 

He should have realized it had been rather out of character for Stiles to accept something so easily. He should have known this wasn’t over.

By the time Stiles finally pulled up in front of the house and parked, Derek’s emotions had settled on an irrational nervousness that he tried his best to stamp down. He didn’t want to hurt Stiles. And as Stiles stepped down, out of his jeep, Derek wondered how this defenseless human could scare him like nothing he’s faced before.

***

**The night before…**

 

Stiles had showed up at the warehouse later than usual. Which was an odd statement in and of itself, that Stiles even had a time he usually showed up.

After the Nogitune, Stiles had turned up at his doorstep one Thursday night with a frozen pizza, a bad Syfy movie, and an expression on his face that told Derek that if he turned Stiles away he might literally fall apart right there. So he didn’t. He invited him in. After that, Stiles had come every Thursday, like clockwork, ever since.

At first, Derek was confused by Stiles behavior. Why, out of any one in Beacon Hills, would Stiles be here, with him? By choice. It made absolutely no sense.

If Derek were honest with himself (which he rarely was) he enjoyed these nights with Stiles. He enjoyed how Stiles filled the whole room with his presence. It made the warehouse feel more like a real home. His endless chatter about anything from the mundane to the completely outrageous offset the deafening silence that usually permeated each room. It made Derek feel more like he was actually a part of the world, even if it was only Stiles’.

Derek never really expected it to continue.

Every Thursday evening Derek would stand in the large, open space of the warehouse with his eyes closed and head tilted slightly, listening for the sound of Stiles’ jeep or the familiar footsteps pounding up the stairs. Every Thursday he would tell himself that if he didn’t hear it this time, if Stiles didn’t show up, that would be okay. He had a life. He had friends and family and any other reasonable and completely justifiable reason not to come.

He always came.

Derek knew that Stiles was attracted to him. There wasn’t much you could hide from a werewolf, especially when talking about the most obvious and non-subtle human Derek had ever known. Derek guessed he would have figured out about Stiles’ attraction even if he, himself, were human.

But Stiles either wanted to pretend that neither of them knew, or Stiles actually thought he was being elusive with it. Either way, Derek was happy to oblige, mainly because he had no idea how to deal with it.

Derek was self-aware enough to admit, at least in his own head, that Stiles had found a way to root himself into Derek’s life, without him even realizing it. He found himself looking forward to these simple, no-expectations, drama-free nights with Stiles. It was the one glowing light in his otherwise bleak, grey life and he found himself, completely against his own better judgement, focusing on these moments, cherishing them. For all good things come to an end. Derek learned that one the hard way and it’s not something he’ll be forgetting soon, what with life reminding him of it every month or so. And this, he unwillingly admits, feels like a good thing. Which makes him want to resist it even harder, knowing it will hurt that much more when it’s ripped away from him.

Derek understands that he’s in a bit too deep. A little too invested in whatever this is between them. An outside observer might look at this and call it simple friendship. Two people platonically sharing in each other’s company. But, to Derek, it feels like something different. He feels it when Stiles leans into Derek slightly, thighs and shoulders together, while they’re on the couch, watching a movie, and he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat quicken. Or when Stiles’ is talking to Derek about his day and he glances at Derek’s lips before swiftly looking away at his shoes or the wall or any place other than Derek’s face. It usually amuses Derek when that happens but he thinks he’s been pretty good at hiding that he notices it. Other times Stiles will clap Derek on the shoulder when he’s getting ready to leave and he’ll squeeze his shoulder before quickly shoving his hands into his pockets, almost like he’s punishing them for acting out without Stiles’ permission. Derek always enjoys the brief contact more than he would ever let on.

Truthfully, it has been quite a while since he had an actual friend and he’s unsure how to go forward from this point. He’s not even sure he’s capable of having friends. Years of building walls and pushing people away. Not allowing yourself those kinds of comforts, not deserving them, changes you fundamentally. It just doesn’t come naturally anymore, not like it did before….everything.

But if Stiles needs a friend, needs someone who just sits beside him and nods and listens while Stiles rambles, then Derek thinks he can do that, at least.

Unfortunately, Stiles has a way of turning something so simple into something far beyond anything Derek is prepared to handle. And he does it slowly, but it’s just as dangerous. Like, drinking a few glasses of wine and then standing up too quickly, not realizing you’ve drank too much until after it’s already too late. Stiles has this effect on him. Like making him feel completely unprepared and out of his depth. Like his first instinct reactions are never right.  


He experienced this when Stiles came to his door, 2 hours later than he normally does on Thursday night. Derek had stopped waiting, or at least he told himself he had. In actuality he grabbed a book off his shelf and sat on the couch, half skimming the words on the page, half listening to the world outside, just in case something needed his attention. Anything, not just Stiles-related things.

When he hears light footsteps walking into the building and the elevator jump to life, Derek stands quickly, ignoring the flutter of his heart that could be construed as excitement, and then immediately feels foolish. He forces himself to sit back down and pick his book back up. Staring at the pages, not taking in a word.

Stiles walks right in, he stopped knocking weeks ago, and the first thing Derek noticed is the strong smell of alcohol emanating from Stiles. The second thing he noticed is that Stiles isn’t wearing shoes.

Derek stands again, worried suddenly that something is wrong. Then Stiles smiles at him, like he knows Derek was worried about him and he’s pleased with it.

“Hi.” Stiles says, swaying slightly.

Derek just stares, confused about almost everything that is happening right now.

Derek’s silence doesn’t seem to faze Stiles. He continues, “Do you mind if I sit? My feet are killing me.” Stiles is already headed for the couch as he speaks, not even considering Derek might turn him away.

“Stiles.” Derek sighs heavily. “Where are your shoes? You’re drunk.”

Stiles has propped himself up at the end of the couch and is leafing through the book Derek was reading. He looks up, his eyes squinting in Derek’s direction, confusion on his face. “Why are you way over there?”

Derek glances around at where he’s standing by the front door. He tilts his head, raising his eyebrows at Stiles. Stiles starts giggling. Actual giggling. And then Derek remembers Stiles told him once that he sometimes tilts his head when he’s confused or wants someone to explain themselves, and it reminds Stiles of a puppy. Derek had just glared at him and pushed him off the end of the couch, smiling smugly after hearing the satisfying thump of Stiles hitting the floor.  


Stiles finally stops giggling enough to say, “I mean, you’re way over there!” He flails his arms around his head. “I’m right here.” His arms fall limply to his side. “Why aren’t you right here…too? Also. Just stop being over there, okay?”

Derek sighs and walks calmly toward the couch, sitting on the opposite side as Stiles.

“Would you like to explain, or…” Derek say, in his opinion, quite patiently.

“OH! Yes. I could do that. Um, yeah, so, Scott came over after school today. He was all sad. He and Allison had got into an argument. Like they do. So, I” Stiles gestures grandly at himself, “as the awesome friend I am, get out the booze. Cause a broken heart needs to be soaked in alcohol before it can be dry and happy again, you know?”

Derek doesn’t know.

Stiles continues, “So, anyway. We drank. Obviously. But then Allison called and wanted to TALK and Scott had to go. He left me. And then I remembered it was Thursday and I was supposed to be here anyway, so I started walking.”

Stiles finishes with a shrug, like everything he said made perfect sense and that’s just life, what can you do? Derek takes a steadying breath.

“You started walking? As in, you walked here? From your house?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s why I’m late. Walking is slow.”

Derek opened his mouth, then quickly closed it.

“Stiles.” He finally grounds out, annoyed now. Stiles could have killed himself. He obviously didn’t drive over here, because he was drunk. At least he understood that. The rest? Not at all. Why come over here at all? It’s not like they had a date. Stiles was under no obligation to come here. He just did. And if he suddenly didn’t, then that was okay, too. Derek ignored THAT particular lie. If he couldn’t lie to himself then what was the point?

“Stiles.” He says again, because he thinks the situation deserves it. “You’re an idiot.”

Stiles just smiles at him and shuffles around on the couch, tucking his feet up underneath him, to warm them, Derek thinks. God, he’s an idiot. At the same time, he somehow managed to move closer to Derek on the other side of the couch. It’s not a large couch to begin with so Stiles’ knee ends up brushed up against Derek’s leg. Derek ignores it. He’s always been good at that. Stick to your strengths.

“You could have called.” Derek says, already annoyed with himself for saying it before he even finished the sentence.

“Yeah…I could have. I wanted to actually. But I was already half way here before I realized I’d forgot my shoes. And it was a few minutes after that when I thought to check for my phone. They’re both safely at home, don’t worry.” He cracks a smile at that and slumps down on the couch, his head is thrown back on the cushion, his long, pale neck too exposed. Derek gets the sudden urge to bury his face in it, to touch. He stamps it down. Stiles rolls his head on the cushion until he’s looking a Derek. He doesn’t say anything, which is odd for Stiles, uncomfortable for Derek. He never thought he’d see the day he would actually want Stiles to speak, if only to break this strange tension.

Derek finally breaks it. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I wanted to. It’s Thursday. It’s our day. Our day is Thursday. We have to be together on Thursday!” It’s clear from the way Stiles heartrate kicks up and the tips of his ears turn a bright red that he said more than he wanted to. Despite himself, Derek smiles at that.

He looks at Stiles. Even though he’s still embarrassed, he also looks resolved, he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a quick burst of air.

“I like that we spend time together, Derek.” Stiles says quietly, wincing slightly, like it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, or he was afraid of the response he would get for saying it.  


Derek wants to laugh it off, wants to push Stiles off the couch again and tell him he’s an idiot. That would feel more normal. That would feel safer. But Stiles is looking away now, down at his sleeve, picking at a stray thread there. Derek can feel the nervousness in air. He can feel the heat from Stiles skin, he can smell the alcohol running through Stiles bloodstream. But Stiles isn’t lying, at least not as far as Derek can tell. He meant what he said, which makes Derek all the more uncomfortable. He could tell for a while now that Stiles wanted him, but he just thought it was a physical thing. Stiles is a teenager. That’s what teenagers do.

“Sometimes I want to come over more often but I don’t know if you really want me here. You know, annoying human and all that.” Stiles tries to laugh like it was a joke but Derek can tell he truly believes it.

“I want you here.” Derek says, before he can stop himself. He almost wishes he could take it back, but the happy, hopeful look on Stiles’ face does funny things to his stomach.

Stiles looks at Derek with a small smile around the corners of his mouth. He then groans, suddenly, and throws his head back against the couch cushion again.

“You kill me, Derek. You absolutely kill me.” He jerks his head back upright again. “I mean, not literally, of course. Although you totally could. Please don’t, though.”

Derek just raises an eyebrow at him. That seems like the safest course of action.

“I’m going to say a thing, okay? I need to say this. It’s—“ Stiles shakes his head, breathes out through his nose in an irritated sigh.

Derek just stares, anxiety and fear of the unknown, of what Stiles could possibly need to stay, holding him in place.

Stiles continues, “You have to know how I feel about you, right? You can’t not know. You just…if feels so obvious to me, and I’m just a dumb human, you know? So it’s gotta be like, super obvious to you and your crazy werewolf senses, right?

Stiles doesn’t give him time to answer, he doesn’t have one, anyway. Stiles plows on.  


“I like you, is what I’m saying. And I hope this doesn’t freak you out. That is definitely not my intention. I just really like spending time with you and I thought it was unfair to you for me to be coming over here, feeling this way, and not, at least, letting you know. If felt like lying a bit, and I’m usually all for lying, I do it all the time, but I just don’t want to lie to you, or deceive you, or—“  


He is interrupted, suddenly, by Derek’s lips on his. 

Stiles pauses for only a second before the situation catches up to him, but by then the situation had also caught up with Derek and he pulled back like he’d been burned. He threw himself off the couch, almost tripping in his haste to get away. Derek just glares at the floor, standing 3 feet away from the end of the couch. Stiles is still sitting there, feet tucked underneath, staring at Derek like he has three heads.

“I…” Stiles starts, but trails off.

“Stiles.” Derek doesn’t know what to say or how to get Stiles to understand. Stiles has no idea what he’s asking. He has no idea what he really wants. He’s just a kid. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you definitely should do that. Like, all the time. Like, right now…for example.”  


Derek gives Stiles what he hopes is an intimidating glare, but he’s afraid it comes off more pained than anything. By Stiles’ reaction, he would definitely go with pained. Stiles scrabbles off the couch then, taking a step toward Derek. Derek backs away just as quickly.

“Stiles. You don’t…this isn’t what you really want.” Derek says, low, unsure of how to tread in these kinds of unfamiliar waters. Stiles couldn’t understand. Derek is bad news. Everyone around him ends up hurt or hurting him and Derek has barely kept himself afloat through all the pain and guilt of it. He’s not sure there’s enough left of him to even give to someone anymore, even if he wanted to. And just because Stiles is the closest he’s come to wanting to, in such a long time, doesn’t mean he should. In fact, this is the best thing for Stiles. Derek won’t lie to himself any longer and say he doesn’t care about Stiles. How could he not care about him? He’s this powerful force, this presence that demands to be loved and protected, to be sheltered and taken care of. It doesn’t matter what Derek might want. This isn’t about him. Stiles deserves better. Better than him. He deserves someone whole.

But all that is a moot point, because this isn’t really what Stiles wants. He just thinks he does, confusing lust for affection. Derek isn’t unaware of how he looks. Stiles is just a teenager with raging hormones and no experience. Of course he was going to latch on to the closest thing within reach. Derek almost wishes he didn’t care about Stiles as much as he did. He then, would be able to take what he wanted from Stiles. Stiles would realize he doesn’t really want this, hate Derek for taking advantage of him, and everything would be back to normal. Hate is something Derek can work with. So much more familiar than this calm fondness he feels coming from Stiles now. But there’s just no way to trust that feeling. He thought Kate had liked him too, and Jennifer. He thought he could trust his senses, at least. But he’s resigned himself to knowing, that at least in this department, he can’t trust what he feels, what he senses. Because he always gets hurt. And Derek thinks that one more heartbreak will be the one that finally does him in.  


Stiles is standing by the end of the couch, his eyebrows creased towards the middle. It almost looks like pity, but there’s sadness there, too. And a healthy amount of frustration.

“You can’t just say that like it’s true. You have no idea what I really want.” Stiles sighs loudly, shaking his head like Derek is a strange creature he can’t figure out.

“I know you-“

“And I know you like me back. People don’t go around kissing people they don’t like!” Stiles tosses one hand in the air, haphazardly.

“Stiles, you don’t even-“

“Besides, you’ve never really known what was best for you. You make awful life decisions! I can help now. I’M best for you. I’M a good decision.” Stiles finishes and looks at Derek anxiously, nervously chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.

Derek presses his lips together tightly, not knowing what to say but knowing if he tries to say it, he’ll get interrupted again. Stiles seems to realize this.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles starts, “I got a little overzealous there. You can talk.” Stiles says, quietly, wincing slightly, seemingly afraid of whatever he thinks Derek is going to say.

Derek takes a deep breath in, deciding to go with honesty, for a change. “Stiles.” He doesn’t know how to continue, doesn’t know how to make Stiles see, to form his thoughts into something coherent enough to get through to him.

“I like you, Stiles. I...” Derek scratches at the back of his head in frustration. “You’re so young. You’re young and good and smart and…you can do anything. Be anything, with anybody. I’m not…I don’t know how to be good, anymore, Stiles. You deserve someone good. That’s what you want, not me.” Derek feels wrecked inside. He pushes these thoughts and feelings down for a reason. They hurt like hell. But now that it’s out, it feels true. Too true. It’s thick in the air. 

Derek can’t even look him in the eye.

“Derek.” Derek isn’t looking at Stiles but he can hear the desperation in his voice. The pity. He can feel Stiles take a step closer and Derek turns away. The air becoming suffocating.

“Just let it go, Stiles. Please.”

There’s an almost overwhelming, heavy pause, time feels stuck in this one small moment for longer than logically possible, and then suddenly he feels Stiles moving away, towards the door.  


“Okay.” Is all he says, before the door shuts quietly behind him. Derek can hear him breathing, heavier than normal, on the other side of the door for almost a full minute.

When he finally hears him start to move down the stairs, Derek remembers that Stiles has no shoes, no phone, and he walked here, intoxicated. He quickly calls Scott, who sounds slightly annoyed at first, being interrupted from his Allison-time, but promises to go pick up Stiles immediately once Derek explains the situation. Very vaguely.

And that was that, Derek thought. He knows he hurt Stiles, but he’s strong and will move past this easily, and in the end he saved him. And in doing so, saved himself the heartache of getting even more invested in Stiles and then having to watch him go. Like they all go. 

***

**Present…**

Stiles steps out of the jeep, all nerves and rapid heartbeat. Derek stands his ground, refusing to let this make him uncomfortable, or seem uncomfortable, anyway.

Stiles is carrying a small, Bluetooth speaker and his cell phone, cradled against his chest. He walks slowly across the yard and stops several feet short of Derek, who came down to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“How did you know I was here?” Derek asks. He doesn’t come here often and when he does it’s generally to be alone, to get lost in his thoughts for a few hours.

“You weren’t at the loft. This seemed like the next logical place.” Stiles says with a shrug.  


They stare at each other for a few seconds that felt like eternity to Derek, when Stiles finally huffs a quick sigh and switches his weight to his other foot, and then back again. Then he says loudly, “Look, I need to say something and you’re gonna listen, and not say a word until I’m done. Okay?”

Derek stands there, unsure what the right course of action is here. Should he let Stiles talk? Should he listen, should he run into the forest until he can’t smell Stiles surrounding every inch of air around him?

“Okay, you can say one word. Or nod. You know.” Stiles looks slightly amused but he’s trying to retain his serious tone.

“Okay.” Derek says before he can talk himself out of it.

“Alright. Great. That’s….okay.” Stiles takes a few steps forward towards the stairs and plops down on the third from the bottom. Then sets down his speaker and looks up at Derek, who’s still standing, feeling thoroughly confused and increasingly nervous. This was a bad idea.

“You can sit down.” Stiles is definitely amused now. Derek takes the step and a half to the stairs and sits down, one above Stiles and a few feet away.

“Okay, I’m just going to jump right in. If I don’t I might be sick and that wouldn’t really fit into my plans for today.” Stiles rearranges himself on the stair to face Derek directly.

“I know I talk a lot. I say a lot of words, but I don’t always say the right ones. And I think it’s really important to say the right ones in this situation.”

“Stil--“ Derek tries to start, not really knowing what he was even going to say.

“No! I said not a word! You know, after I let you have that one word. But that was it! That’s all you get.”

Derek glares.

“Derek, please.” Stiles’ voice has a slight desperation to it. “Just listen. Just do this one thing for me. Please.”

Derek nods slowly, not really having another option.

Stiles nods too, a quick, jerky movement of his head, while he chews on the inside of his lip.

“Okay…like I said. A lot of words. Not always the right ones.” Stiles clears his throat and twirls his phone around in circles between two fingers. “This morning when I woke up, I was obviously a little embarrassed, but I was also afraid that you didn’t really believe me, last night, when I said I liked you. Because, you know, booze. So, I wanted to come today and let you know that I really do. Like you, that is. I really do like you. Oh, God. I sound ridiculous.” Stiles waves a hand in the air, as if to shoo away his last sentence. “Anyway, there are things I think you need to hear but I think someone else can say it better than I can.”

Derek looks at Stiles, confused. No one else is here. He would have heard them. Stiles smiles softly at Derek’s confusion.

“Okay, this is the weird part. I’m going to play you something. I just need you to listen. Really listen, Derek. Just listen and not say a word until it’s over. Oh, also, I’m gonna say a few more things when it’s done, so…you know what, I’ll just let you know when you can talk again.” Stiles has to hide a smile behind his hand, obviously enjoying telling Derek what to do, and him actually doing it.

Stiles glances down at his phone and clicks something on the screen. A song starts to play from the speaker beside Stiles’ knee, on the stair.

Derek recognized it. It was a Billy Joel song, he thinks. He raises an eyebrow at Stiles.  


“Shut up! Just listen.” Stiles says, quickly, although he looks a little more pale and nervous than he did a few moments ago. Stiles sits on his hands to keep himself from fidgeting and stares at Derek’s right shoulder, apparently unable to look him in the eye. Derek can hear his heartbeat over the music, it’s loud and fast and it’s distracting him from the beat of the song. Derek refocuses his attention on the speaker between them, and decides to do what Stiles asked of him, and listens.

> ‘Some people stay far away from the door  
>  If there's a chance of it opening up  
>  They hear a voice in the hall outside  
>  And hope that it just passes by  
>  Some people live with the fear of a touch  
>  And the anger of having been a fool  
>  They will not listen to anyone  
>  So nobody tells them a lie’

Stiles it biting his lip again but he looking intently at Derek’s face, trying to gauge a reaction. Derek thinks that Stiles might be afraid that he’ll get angry. He’s not angry. He feels foolish, definitely. There’s embarrassment, sure. But he’s not angry. He found out a while back that getting mad at Stiles works in the exact opposite way you want it to work out. And he’s pretty much given up even trying.

Despite Derek’s attempts to trust no one, he knows deep down that Stiles would never do anything to deliberately hurt him. That anything he does comes from a place of caring, which makes Derek both worried for Stiles and his naivety, fearful of the people out there who would take advantage of that, but it also makes something in his chest tighten painfully, knowing that Stiles is directing that caring nature at him. Even though it’s misdirected and undeserved. Derek continues to listen.

> ‘I know you're only protecting yourself  
>  I know you're thinking of somebody else’  
> 

Derek isn’t protecting himself, he glares at Stiles, hoping he understands. Derek is protecting Stiles. He wants to say as much, but Stiles shushes him before any words leave his mouth.  


“Listen! This part is important.”

> ‘Someone who hurt you  
>  But I'm not above  
>  Making up for the love  
>  You've been denying you could ever feel  
>  I'm not above doing anything  
>  To restore your faith if I can’

Stiles nods in agreement to the lyrics, a slight blush staining his cheeks. Derek realizes then that he actually wants Stiles to convince him this is a good idea. He wants Stiles to succeed, which is dangerous. Obviously his resolve is much weaker then he thought. And it’s not just that he’s been hurt. People say that all the time, that they’ve been hurt before so they’ve become wary of love, stop believing in it. That’s not Derek’s problem. Derek knows there is love, he knows how powerful and beautiful it can be. He’s seen it, even felt it, from his family. His mom and dad, his brothers and sisters, they all loved him. But when they died, the physical loss was only half of it. Derek’s family, his pack, they were strong, solid. All connected on a much deeper level than just family. When they died, Derek felt it. Each one. It was like a part of himself died as well. In his darkest moments, he sometimes wishes he had been in the house right beside them all. Momentary pain and then nothing. That has to be better than living without them. Living with a hole in his chest, filled only with guilt and grief and loneliness.

He’s not sure that hole will allow him to love again. Life has made it clear that any attempts to let his guard down and give in to that want for someone, for love and affection, will be met with pain and loss, just like it always has.

Derek shakes himself from his morose thoughts and glances up at Stiles, who is looking at him with brows furrowed, as if he knew Derek’s train of thought and wants to wipe is away. Derek breathes in slow and lowers his eyes, staring at the speaker in front of him.

> Some people see through the eyes of the old  
>  Before they ever get a look at the young  
>  I'm only willing to hear you cry  
>  Because I am an innocent man  
>  I am an innocent man  
>  Oh yes I am’

Derek almost rolls his eyes, instead stopping half way through to stare towards the sky. Of course age had to come up. One of their largest hurdles apart from…everything else. Derek knows that if this was a few years down the road, their ages wouldn’t be as much of a factor. 6 years isn’t a huge deal in the grand scheme of things. But Stiles is still in high school and Derek is…well, technicalities and numbers do nothing to change how he feels. Derek feels like he’s lived 100 lifetimes of grief and pain. His 23 years of life feel more like 80 sometimes, both with how disconnected he feels with the young people he finds himself surrounded with every day, and with all the worry, guilt, and responsibility he shoulders, so much so, he sometimes feels like it will break him if he doesn’t constantly push it under, never ridding it. Only keeping it at bay.

And of course Stiles is innocent. In every sense of the word. Or as much as he can be living in Beacon Hills with a werewolf as a best friend and his life semi-constantly being threatened. Derek would love nothing more than to shield Stiles away from the rest of the world. Hide him from the evil and the hurt, but then Stiles already knows more pain than anyone ever should. Doesn’t Stiles understand Derek knows more than anyone how innocent Stiles is? Derek doesn’t want to be the person to take that away from Stiles, knows that he would, if he gave himself the chance. Even if he didn’t want to.

> Some people say they will never believe  
>  Another promise they hear in the dark  
>  Because they only remember too well  
>  They heard somebody tell them before

Derek shakes his head, it’s no secret he has trust issues. It’s hard to trust people when the girl you thought you loved only got close to you to murder your whole family. And with an uncle like Peter and another girlfriend under his belt who lied and tried to kill more people he cared about and loved, he thinks he has a pretty justifiable reason to be like this.

He wants to trust people, he really does. He wants to trust Stiles, and he does. About most things. He trusts him with his life. But his heart is a different matter completely.

> Some people sleep all alone every night  
>  Instead of taking a lover to bed  
>  Some people find that it's easier to hate  
>  Than to wait anymore

At this, the corners of Stiles mouth rise a little, his ears turning a bright shade of red. He glances down his shoes, biting his lip on one side. Derek wants to reach out, touch Stiles’ cheek, feel if it’s as warm as it looks right now, hot with embarrassment, or possibly just being self-conscious about the words being sung. He doesn’t reach out.

> I know you don't want to hear what I say  
>  I know you're gonna keep turning away  
>  But I've been there and if I can survive  
>  I can keep you alive  
>  I'm not above going through it again  
>  I've not above being cool for a while  
>  If you're cruel to me I'll understand

Stiles does look up then, smiling widely, eyebrows raised. No doubt remembering the time when he held Derek afloat in a pool for 2 hours. Or any other time Stiles risked his life to save Derek or another of his friends, knowing he’s fragile and so breakable. Knowing that Stiles getting hurt is so much worse than Derek or Scott getting hurt, and just not caring.

> Some people run from a possible fight  
>  Some people figure they can never win  
>  And although this is a fight I can lose  
>  The accused is an innocent man  
>  I am an innocent man  
>  Oh yes I am  
>  An innocent man

He’s right. If Derek could run away right now, he would. He knows that wouldn’t help anything and it would be an extremely short-term solution, but it doesn’t stop the idea from being appealing. Derek was never a fighter. He fights from necessity. He fights because that’s all that life has given him. The only option he has left. Fight or give up. And although giving up sounds so simple, so peaceful, he knows he could never do that. He knows himself, knows that he’d rather fight than admit defeat. Admit that he is truly not enough. Even though he knows he isn’t.

> You know you only hurt yourself out of spite  
>  I guess you'd rather be a martyr tonight  
>  That's your decision  
>  But I'm not below  
>  Anybody I know  
>  If there's a chance of resurrecting a love  
>  I'm not above going back to the start  
>  To find out where the heartache began

Derek shakes his head and closes his eyes. Looking at Stiles right now would be mistake. He’s terrified he’s radiating hope and that’s something that he can’t have. He’s not been allowed to in so long. Derek knows Stiles means well, he knows this without a doubt. Doubting Stiles is harder and harder to do the longer he knows him, and he’s known him long enough to be sure. The problem with good intentions is, they aren’t guarantees. But then again, even guarantees aren’t assured. Not in Derek’s life. He just feels so lost. So unsettled. He thought he had his life figured out by now. It wasn’t a good one, but it was predictable. It was something he could look back at, see the pattern, finally, and be able to stay within the boundaries set for him. Patterns of betrayal and guilt threaded so tightly around who he was as a person, it was impossible to untangle. 

> Some people hope for a miracle cure  
>  Some people just accept the world as it is  
>  But I'm not willing to lay down and die  
>  Because I am an innocent man  
>  I am an innocent man  
>  Oh yes I am  
>  An innocent man

The song fades and Stiles’ heartbeat picks up again. He takes several deep breaths. The silence is unnerving, but Derek keeps his word. He sits there, staring at the small black speaker, waiting. Mind going in 30 different directions.  


Stiles finally breaks the silence.

“I like spending time with you. You’re funny, in this terrifying and subtle sort of way. I like trying to figure you out. I like making you smile. Cause I don’t think you do it often enough and I like the idea of being the reason why you do it more. I just, I want to make you happy. I know that sounds so corny, but it’s true. You deserve to be happy, Derek. I know you don’t think you do, but you do. If you don’t take anything else from this super embarrassing monologue I’m currently caught in, it’s that. That you deserve a good life with people who love you and make you happy.”

Stiles pauses. But only long enough for him to take a deep breath and push it all out in one strong gust. He continued, “I know I’m young. And I know you think that’s an issue. But I’m 17. And I’ll be 18 in a few months. It’s technicalities at this point.” 

Derek knows he’s still not supposed to be talking so he raises one eyebrow, hoping to convey the obvious, _‘The Sheriff wouldn’t count it as technicalities.’_

“Yes, Derek. Technicalities. You’re eyebrows aren’t allowed to talk either.” Stiles says, faux sternness softened by the smile he was trying to push down. 

“Anyway, the age thing is a non-issue. Or will be soon. Next on my list of ‘Things Derek May Use As An Excuse’; danger. Scott, a werewolf, is my best friend. I will always be surrounded by this. Whether I’m with you or not. Us? Me and you? It won’t effect that. I’m going to be in the middle of things either way. You--” Stiles lifts his hands in air quotes, “ _‘Protecting me by not being with me’_ is bull. You know that stuff never actually works.”

Stiles holds up a fist. “I like you, you deserve to be happy, age, potential danger…” Stiles ticks them off on his fingers. “Am I missing anything?”

Stiles looks at Derek wearily, almost meekly, if that’s a word that can even be attributed to Stiles.

“Can I talk now?” Derek asks, partly amused, partly confused. But also, somehow not as confused as he thought he’d be. Things seem clearer. Still terrifying, but only in how a rollercoaster can be terrifying. Even though logically you know it’s safe and people ride roller coasters everyday with dying or getting hurt. 

Stiles ducks his head, smiling, and nods.

“I...I don’t know what to say, Stiles. I’m not good at this.” Derek shrugs, uncertain how to proceed. 

“It’s easy.” Stiles says, a knowing smile on his lips. “You say, ‘I like you, I think about kissing you all the time. You’re funny and handsome and charming as hell and -’”. 

“It’s not as simple as that.” Derek gets out before Stiles can continue. He sobers suddenly, doubt clouding his face.

“Listen, I know I came on a little strong. But if you tell me, sincerely, that this isn’t what you want. That you don’t want some dumb kid who annoys you all the times and eats all your food and makes you watch bad horror movies and comes with the occasional panic attack and Adderall, I will back off, I promise. I don’t want to keep pushing you into something you don’t want, or make you feel like yo--”

“Stiles.” Derek’s hand shoots out and grabs Stiles shoulder. Stiles stops abruptly at the touch.

Derek takes a deep breath, let’s it out slowly and closes his eyes, making a decision. 

“I like you.” He opens his eyes, looking directly at Stiles, into those impossibly bright, honey colored eyes. “I think about kissing you all the time. You’re funny. And handsome. And charming as--”

He doesn’t get to finish. Stiles lips cover his and he sinks into the kiss. It’s all at once too much to take in and not nearly enough. But it’s also the greatest feeling in the world, finally letting go. Letting himself have something good. Praying to anyone who would listen to _Please, don’t let me destroy this._

When they finally pull apart, both out of breath, Stiles’ cheeks red, eyes half closed, his hand wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck, Derek thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He pulls him back in, kisses his forehead, because he can. 

“Just so you know, we aren’t doing anything more than this until you’re 18. I’d like to at least try to avoid getting shot by your father.” 

Stiles laughs, a beautiful sound. 

“Please. I broke you down with one Billy Joel song. 80’s ballads are obviously your weakness.” Stiles pauses, seemingly taking this quite seriously.

“What do you think I could get for a Journey song? Kissing with no shirts on? What song gets rid of pants?”

Derek rolls his eyes, but the small smile he can feel in the corners of his mouth are doing nothing to discourage Stiles, who takes that as incentive to keep going.

“Foreigner? Bryan Adams? Aerosmith!”

Derek starts to stands, thoughts of taking Stiles out to lunch, trying to do this the right way, interrupted by Stiles, who pulls him back in for a quick kiss, an innocent peck of lips.

“I’ll do some experimenting. I’ll find the No-pants song. I will.”

Derek has no doubts that he will.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first thing I've ever written. It was terrifying putting this on here but also, it feels really good to complete something! Even if I still have a lot to learn.
> 
> Let me know what you think. Seriously, tell me all about it. If you see any blinding mistakes, let me know! Unbetad so all mistakes are mine. Thanks for reading!


End file.
